Dear Chris,
Time has a way of trickling down the streams of destiny and I find myself standing on the precipice looking back and wondering where it has gone.
A whole lifetime ago in this very town I started down a path that shaped my life into what it has become. They called it "Four Corners" back then
- before the railroad came in and brought the hand of progress with it. The main street that we walked so many times in our day is unrecognizable now, consumed by a vast forest of buildings and concrete. The world we knew here is gone. I'm almost glad you're not here to see it.
I remember the first day I came to this town, not much more than a sapling, and eager for adventure. At the first sound of gunfire, I jumped from that stage and landed myself smack in the middle of the wildest group of men I'd ever known. Six hard men from backgrounds as different as the colors of the rainbow. Little did I realize that they would shape me into the man I was to become. They were all running from something. Me
- I was running to it.
We first came together under your wing to save that village, remember? And for nothing more than a nod and a thank you. Of course, in my youth and stupidity I barreled right in there with you. We were seven men against an entire unit of soldiers. What in blazes were we thinking?
The thirst for glory satiated my very being. Still does I guess, but now the pains in my hands make even writing difficult. I used to dazzle my children with gun-twirling, spinning my pistols around my fingers the way I used to show off. I haven't done that in years. I am an old man and my body can no longer keep up with my spirit.
You were the first man I ever really looked up to, Chris. You brought us together with no words. Just your very presence commanded respect and I wanted more than anything for you to be proud of me. Damn, I wanted so much to be like you. We all would have ridden to Hell and back for you if you asked us to. And God knows, at times I think we did.
It's funny how over time your memories of the bad times fade away and only the good ones remain. I think about the old days more as the years go by and often find myself wishing I could go back to the way things used to be. I decided a long time ago never to say "goodbye." Just "see you later."
We were quite the lot, weren't we? Had our laughs and, from time to time, our fights. Good ol' Buck saw to that. You know, as much as he irritated me with all his bragging and advice, I loved that son of a bitch. He was like a big brother to me and we sure did we get into some trouble. He was a good man. Looking back, that unwanted advice saved my life more times than I'd care to remember.
I learned so much in those years we spent riding through the territory. Each of the boys had their own little lessons to give, some more willingly accepted than others. Vin taught me his methods of tracking, although I could never hold a candle to him. Took me years to get good at it, but then I never lived with Indians like he did. He accepted me into the group quicker than anyone else, especially you. I reckon Vin was probably the easiest for me to get along with, aside from Nathan. They both usually kept their opinions to themselves to avoid confrontation when I was busy shooting off my mouth. Damn near got me killed sometimes, but I learned my lessons the hard way in a hard land.
Nathan was a downright pleasant man to be around. I wish I would have noticed it at the time. What's that saying about hindsight being 20/20? Nathan was the only one I could afford to play poker with. And he had the deepest bass voice in the world. One time I heard him sing "Amazing Grace" and it liked to brought tears to my eyes. I bet you didn't know that he sang, did you? I can't count how many times he saved my life. None of us would have ever survived our jobs without him.
Then there was Ezra. The man was truly gifted. He actually showed me a few of his secrets
- can you believe that? Told me not to tell anybody - but I reckon it doesn't matter much anymore. I still haven't figured out how he beat my straight that one time, though. Anyhow, we had some good times in that saloon. At least, I sure did. You know something, Chris? We didn't trust Ezra in the beginning, but over the years I came to respect him in a way. I saw sides of Ezra I never had thought possible. I think deep down he was probably more loyal than anybody. He just didn't want anyone to know that
- it would ruin his image. And in Ezra's business, image was everything.
You know, I actually go to church once in a while. Every time I step into one I am whisked back to Josiah and his little church project there in Four Corners. That old church is one of the only things left in town that has gone on unchanged. Kinda like the man himself
- standing like a stubborn ox in the road. He helped give me faith, even when he'd lost it himself. So many times when it seemed nothing was going my way, he would come out with some witty remark or biblical phrase and it just seemed to help scare the demons away.
And here I stand at the foot of your forgotten grave, Chris. The grave of a man who was more of a father to me than my own blood. You gave me something to live up to
- a mold to shape myself. I can't tell you what that did for me.
I guess what I'm getting at is that our relationship went beyond the definition of professional. You boys were my family
- my brothers. We spilled our blood, broke our backs, laughed, cried, fought, and lived at each others' side. We were a family in every way that counts, even though we could never break down our walls of pride long enough to admit it.
You always said I was "in a hurry to die" and that I wouldn't last two years in the West. Who'd have thought I would outlive every one of you.
I've come back to the town we called "Four Corners," to the place where my real life began. I came here as a young man and learned how to live. It's only fitting that this be where I die. You were right in that respect, Chris. I would be buried here in this town. Now I can see the trail's end just beyond the horizon. Took a little longer to get here than I figured, but whose complaining? I lived the life I always wanted to live. For helping me find the right path, I'll always be grateful to you boys.
So here's to you, Chris Larabee. And to the guns of the 'magnificent seven' who blazed a path across an untamed land and helped to shape the future of a great nation. We sure did make a difference.
What did I gain in my youth? A lot of stories to tell my grandkids. More bullet holes than I'd care to remember. And the six best friends I have ever had.
It seems that when I rode with you boys I was always bringing up the rear. Some things never change. Wait up, boys. I'm coming!
JD Dunne
November 3, 1947
The End
